The Search for the Five
by Misfit Fallen Angel
Summary: Story set after the time of the War of the Ring. Still set in middle earth. New chars, introducing original characters later on.
1. Default Chapter

**The Search for the Five**** ******

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_Mark well my tale,_

_The story of The Five,_

_Who were able to resist_

_The rule of The One._

_No soul knows why they were free,_

_No-one knows how it was done._

_And as they broke their indestructible chain,_

_They shattered the powers of their shadow king,_

_Entrusted were they, but all in vain,_

_For they could defy the rule of The One Ring._

_The Five have passed into long-dead myth,_

_Their deeds were never meant to last_

_But a simple man shall close the rift_

_Between Middle Earth's future… and its past._

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_Prologue: A vision through the seeing stone…_

"It has been a great many years since the great rings of power were made, and we are now 350 years beyond the destruction of the One Ring. The exploits of that time have long since passed into legend, and those who once lived, now lay in eternal rest. We live now in the Age of Men. The Elves have lived in Valinor for centuries, though some remain in the havens of the Elves' past splendour, awaiting the second age of Elves. The Kings of Gondor have finally been returned to their rightful dignity, and the people of middle-earth have finally been able to band together in a united peace. Seers tell of a sudden surge of Maiar coming into existence within the ranks of men. Long have there been signs of strange existences upon middle-earth in recent times.  Many of these have been proven to be true, and yet one eludes all possibility. The prophetic dreams of a young man; Yaomond of Minas Tirith. Many times has he appealed the councils of Minas Tirith and the new city of Sorindar for the resources to study into his dreams. These dreams have caused great unease among all those with whom he has shared his visions. And soon, he shall find himself silenced… for better, or for worse, for the time of his testing draws near…"


	2. Visions Of The Past

_Chapter 1_

Grey clouds overshadowed the skies above Yaomond's head, and the sounds of a Smith's hammer hitting metal grew ever louder in his ears. His gloved hand reached outward and pushed the door open.

 The glow of the multiple forges covered the room in a warm orange glow. Many faceless people worked on in the nearly suffocating heat, seemingly oblivious to his presence. But Yaomond's attention was fixed upon a man working furtively in the back of the large room. Although his back was turned, Yaomond could make out a strangeness about this figure. He didn't seem to be like the others. He had a large build, with very square shoulders. The faint shining of something on the table before this man caught Yaomond's interest. He made his way through the maze of men and tools, closing the distance between himself and the large man. The closer Yaomond got, he could feel a strong sense of being drawn towards these shining objects… as if some invisible tether had gotten grasp of him and was pulling him closer. He stopped just before getting within arm's reach of the figure, but the strength of this unseen force was so strong he had to lean back. The Figure turned and at last, Yaomond could see the items on the table. 3 silver rings and one golden ring lay on the table. Yaomond searched the face of the figure that now had turned side-on to him. The golden-red hair fell around blackness, but by this time, Yaomond was fixated upon the mould in the figure's hand. As the mould was slowly opened, Yaomond's head spun as a sudden sense of vertigo threatened to overwhelm him. The metal ring inside the mould shone silver, gold and a mottled black. He saw white light surround each of the rings and now, chanting drowned out the discordant clanging of the forge. But abruptly, the visions shattered as the mould was smashed at his feet.

 Darkness, dotted with a haphazard spattering of stars. Yaomond brushed the stubborn blonde hair from his face and noted the sweat, which now coated his tan leather glove. His breathing heavy and his head slowly clearing from the still evident vertigo, Yaomond looked around: the remnants of that night's fire smouldered and glowed amber amongst the blackness of charred wood, his sword and buckler leaned against the nearby tree. "This is getting ridiculous… If the council of Edoras doesn't hear me out, I'm not sure what I'm going to do." He nervously rubbed at his chin. He hadn't shaved for 6 days, and the brittle hair made a loud scratching noise against the creaking leather of his vest collar. 


	3. A bolt in the dark

Author's note: this is a chapter for later in the story. Voriath is an elven Maiar and Baranturiel is a normal elf. Yaomond, Voriath and Baranturiel are copyright me.

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_A bolt in the dark._

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Yaomond, bloodied and confused amidst the cries from the attacking goblins, turned to look for his comrades.

 Amidst the mud and the pouring rain, his eyes met with the sudden blaze of a burning barrel and behind the barrel crouched Voriâthion, dagger in hand, green eyes blazing as he examined the now shattered remains of his sword. A slight hint of panic passed over his calm face before he launched himself at a goblin that had its back turned to him. The jagged fault line on Voriâthion's broken blade vanished beneath a tear in the leather armour and moments later his blood soaked hand was clutching a cruel looking goblin sword.

 Yaomond was suddenly snapped back into the fray when an arrow slammed into his buckler and bounced off, the tip scratching his forehead as it spun over and behind him. Turning around, he swung his left hand out high and wide, his sword cutting through the thick skin of a goblin's neck and stopping suddenly as it bit hard into the wooden struts of the burning caravan. 

 He then felt a dull, but sudden, ache in his side as a goblin's fist slammed into it with all the force of a battering ram. Dropping to his knees, Yaomond looked up at see the thick, towering figure raise its angular sword. Finding no way to escape, Yaomond rose, his fist covered now by a torn leather glove rose with him sharply to meet with the Goblin's chest. Rather than falling backwards, the goblin dropped his black blade, made a slight gurgling noise and collapsed forwards, nearly knocking Yaomond off-balance. As the goblin fell past him and then hit the floor, he noticed the shaft of an arrow protruding from the back of his neck. 

 Yaomond looked up to see Barantûriel flashing a smile his way, which he met with a thankful grin. But his blood froze in his veins and his grin faded as Barantûriel's face contorted with pain and her abdomen gave a jerk, then a crimson-black blade tore through the clothing she was wearing.

 Yaomond gave a cry and tore across the muddy expanse that stretched between himself and Barantûriel.

 Voriâthion finished off the goblin he was grappling with and then saw Yaomond streak past him. As his eyes followed Yaomond's path, his eyes met with the vision of Baranturiel falling to her knees as a goblin started to swing its sword at her neck. Giving a sudden shout and throwing his hands at the goblin, a huge burst of light tore from Voriathion's outstretched fingertips and made contact with the goblin, tossing him backwards like a rag doll. He too began to run to Barantûriel's aid.

 Yaomond had approached the fallen goblin by this point, and with a barbarous swing of his sword, he hacked into the fallen attacker.


	4. A day of anguish

a day of anguish 

 When his rage had abated, her turned to see Voriathion's small frame lifting Barantûriel's shivering body from the mud, which now was stained crimson with her precious blood. He took one look at her eyes, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and he felt something within him burning. Voriathion's silvery tears mingled with hers as he pulled her close. 

 Baranturiel knew this time there would be no healing available… she felt a gentle pair of arms surround her, and looking up into a pair of green eyes, she began to cry. "Voriâth… Where's Yaomond?"

 Yaomond stepped forward and knelt beside Voriathion, gently placing a gloved hand on her cheek. He winced as she curled around her stomach in a convulsion of pain. 

 "There is no returning now. I… I'm scared Voriath."

 These words stung both men, and both of them lowered their heads. They found no words to soothe her, nothing to console her. Yaomond's voice sounded hastily over the hissing of the rain.

 "Don't talk like that Baranturiel, you'll be fine. We're both here with you."

 Baranturiel's face glowed for a moment as she gave a trembling smile, then clutching Voriathion as pain took her again. She gave a slight whimper and timidly spoke out.

"I would not want it to end any other way… you have given me so much, and now I cannot repay… Voriath, I love you."

 She convulsed again and Voriathion closed his eyes silently, speaking an affirmation of her last words in Elvish, and then she grew heavy in his arms, the tension in her body had vanished and he pulled her up to him sobbing openly now.

 At this precise moment, Yaomond's heart suddenly felt as though it was pumping ice through his whole body. An emptiness took hold of him and he shook his head, his mouth open in a silent cry of anguish. Taking up his sword Yaomond grabbed the corpse of the goblin that had killed her and slammed it hard against the nearby rock, shouting angrily at it, screaming incoherent curses at it as he furiously hacked at the still, silent body. Slowly though, he sank to his knees and he released his sword, which fell to the ground beside him. Tears flowed, and yet he did not seem to be crying. He couldn't feel the anguish he had felt moments before, and what scared him most, was that he felt nothing. Except an absence deep within himself…


End file.
